They'll Never Hear Your Muffled Cries
by DizzyAlice
Summary: And then the world tilts, and you fly off the edge. You are falling. And falling. The hum increases to a wail, a horrible, feral sound filling your ears. You want it to stop. And falling. One-shot, implied Kennyx? Happy birthday, Kenny


_They'll Never Hear Your Muffled Cries  
A South Park Fanfiction by DizzyAlice_

A/N: Happy Birthday, Kenny =) No dying for you today.  
Just a quick little one-shot. Implied Kennyx?  
Wrote this up frantically last night when I realized it was his birthday today and I hadn't prepared anything xD For a complete spur-of-the-moment thing, I rather like it. I enjoy writing in the second person, I need to do that more. It seems to work well for me when I write Kenny for some reason...  
Ah well.  
Enjoy, and please review~ ^_^

* * *

You're standing at the edge of the world.

You don't move, you don't think, you don't breathe.

You just stand.

And wait.

And watch.

There's something about this nothingness you're feeling that's really kind of beautiful. You know there had to be a whole lot of something there before for you to feel this empty.

Your heart has felt empty in the past, but never quite to this extent.

You muse for a moment just how dark it all is, and then you realize your eyes are closed. You don't have the energy to open them again.

Ghosts fly around you, whispering in tongues and petting your hair. They all just make you feel cold, so cold, as if all the heat has been sucked out of your body and you'll never be warm again.

You're in pain, but not really. The hurt is more like a memory, a wound long since healed, one that still throbs when you think about it.

You think you've lost your mind.

You wonder if maybe the ghosts will help you find it. But then again, maybe they're the ones who stole it away in the first place.

The dark becomes darker, and one by one all the ghosts go away. The only thing left is you, although you're not quite sure if you should count because, after all, you are nothing.

Maybe all that's left is nothing.

But then, you're not quite sure of anything anymore.

Not that you ever have been.

You would try and figure out how this happened, but your mind is still gone, so thinking of any sort is rather impossible at the moment.

The nothing is filled with a sort of humming, soft and sweet, like a lullaby. It sounds familiar. Maybe something your mother sang to you when you were very young.

Then you remember that your mother never cared enough to sing to you, anyways.

And then the world tilts, and you fly off the edge.

You are falling.

And falling.

The hum increases to a wail, a horrible, feral sound filling your ears. You want it to stop.

And falling.

Crash.

All around you is this god-awful screeching, stuffed like cotton in your ears. Your throat hurts. Your head hurts. Everything just hurts. The ghosts are back, petting you and talking to you, but they aren't ghosts anymore. They're real.

You've been thrust into a moment of pure chaos.

And then you realize the screaming is coming from you.

You can't make yourself stop, so you bite your tongue, until your eyes fill with tears and your mouth with blood. That shuts you up.

You've learned all your most important lessons through pain.

Your breath comes in short gasps, shaky and uneven. Your whole body is trembling. You concentrate on balancing yourself, on finding inner peace.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

The hands that were petting you grip your shoulders, pull you up. You only then realize that you were lying down.

Slowly, carefully, your eyes slide open. You see him, but he's just a blur of colors. Still, he's there, and that means more to you.

His breath goes out in a whoosh of relief, and his arms fly around you, holding you tight. His words leave his mouth in a waterfall.

Ohmygodthankgodyou'reokaydon'teverdothattomeagain.

You sink into his warmth and apologize. Over and over.

I'm sorry.

His grip tightens, afraid he's going to lose you again, and he gently strokes your hair.

The nothingness is replaced with somethingness. A lot of somethingness. Really good somethingness.

You allow yourself to smile. It's a small smile, but it's there.

Maybe, you think to yourself, maybe life is worth living after all.

**The End.**


End file.
